“BOY!”

Winn flinched. He paused squeezing the cream filled pastry bag. Cursing silently - making that line look good will be impossible now - the scruffy young man put his frosting equipment to the side and started patting himself down.

“BOY? Where are you, you…”

Winn left the cloud of flour he brushed from his military uniform behind as he started walking up the narrow winding staircase. He flinched each time he heard new rumbling sounds coming from up the stairs. The tottering old man was once again rummaging through the near-empty cabinets and drawers, the sound of slamming door punctuated by the occasional crashing sound.

“Reporting, sir.”

“Ah, boy… Who are you again?”

“Winn Ruddell, archmagus Talmanael. Private fourth class, at your service.” Winn made the proper bow and half-step back at the correct parts of his introduction. If there is anything basic training taught him, it’s military etiquette.

“Right, right. Where’s the fire blossom extract?”

Winn almost had a heart attack. He bowed low as sweat ran down his back. “Might I enquire what you would need hellfire sap for, sir?”

“There is no need for you to know. Not like someone of your magical ineptitude will be able to understand it anyway.”

“Right, sir…” Winn paused for a moment as he felt the bitter sting of truth in those words. He thought of how to handle this situation, but he already knew what he must do. Not what he should do, nor what would be ethically or morally correct. No, he only knew what he must do in order to get through the day in one piece. “…I believe we have some in the cellar. I will fetch it now, sir.”

“Right, right. I can’t believe its the end of the year again. Always run out of supplies in those last few weeks. Military logistics is as terrible as always. I really should send the Emperor another letter one of these da…” The rest of the ancient geezer’s muttered complains were lost to Winn as he hurried down the stairs.

Rushing back into the kitchen, he hurriedly finished the delicate piping work needed to complete the festive looking cake. The haggard young man lifted the colourful tower of pastry on a large tray and loaded it with other items he gathered with practised speed. A pitcher filled with bright red lemonade, a small bowl filled with crispy snacks and a small pile of blight sweets made for a rather festive sight.

He took a deep breath, gathering his nerves before he started walking up the stairs with careful steps. He started singing with a full-throated tenor the moment his foot reached the lowest step. “He is here, another year!”

The tottering old man upstairs stops moving around as Winn slowly ascended the stairs. “Through foe and fiend, we persevere!”

Bellowing the last syllables of the Empire sanctioned song, Winn put the plate down and smiled the old coot. “Happy birthday, sir! Please enjoy the cake as I put up some decorations.”

What followed was a rather nice and quiet party. The old man seemed confused now and then, but looking at the streamers of flags and magical lights scattered around the bare room put another smile on his face. Meanwhile, Winn handed the old man slice after slice, refilling his cup whenever it was empty.

Hours later, Winn was finally able to put the ancient mage to bed. He crept out of the bedroom, sighing with relief as the door closed. He cleaned up and put away the decorations with practised ease.

He took the dirty dishes back down to his domain, the building’s kitchen. Here, he collapsed. He barely managed to force himself to clean up the mess he left behind when rushing the cake and snacks. Half an hour later, the kitchen was clean, and he stumbled to his own room on the ground floor. The last thought that passed through his exhausted mind as he flops down on his cot was that he would have to do this entire thing again tomorrow.

They never prepared him for this in basic training. Not a single instructor - either in the army or one of the tutors his parents hired - supplied him with information useful in this situation.

Being the direct assistant for one of the Empire's most powerful beings seemed like a cushy and lofty position. But the only time when the old mage did not insist on performing extremely dangerous experiments was during his own birthday. So instead of letting himself be blown up after the old fogey forgot what they were doing halfway, Winn just baked a cake each day.